


String of Daffodils

by halcyonwhispers



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonwhispers/pseuds/halcyonwhispers
Summary: It’s painful loving someone you’ll never have.Sicheng knew this too well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [u~u](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmEK31ghdFM)
> 
> -
> 
> The Hanahaki disease is a fictional disease where a person suffering from unrequited love begins coughing up flowers. The disease is cured naturally when the feelings are returned and through surgery if they aren't, which removes the flowers growing in the lungs together with the feelings that caused it.

It was the throbbing in the back of his head that finally got him out of bed. After hours of lying awake with a weight sitting on his chest, Sicheng practically ran to the bathroom. His bare feet hardly made any noise against the wooden floors but that didn’t matter. He didn’t even think about Yuta and Doyoung sleeping only a few feet away, and he thought even less about the rest of the members inside their own rooms.

He only had a second to barrel through the door and smother his mouth when it started.

His chest tightened until he choked, then coughed violently. Once, twice, until he lost count and saw black patches cloud his vision. He fisted his pajama shirt, chest contorting from the lack of air. Sicheng whimpered in agony as ropes of saliva dripped from his mouth onto the palms of his hands.

The throbbing in his head started to beat in tune with his quickened heart.

_Bump-bump_

_Bump-bump_

God, this isn’t happening. He doesn’t (can’t) have-

 _Bump-_ bump

All the air paused in his lungs, cutting him off so abruptly that he gasped loudly for it. He slid down onto his knees onto the floor and gripped the sides of toilet to the point where his fingers went stung. But the hurt in his fingers was nothing compared to the vicious hacking.

It felt different from all the other times coughing up water or from a bad cold.

Sicheng choked, choked, choked, until he was left with thick tears streaming down his face. He panted, a sob stuck inside of his throat when it was all over. The pain went numb as he stared into the water.

Petals.

Dozens of petals, pale yellow like a confused cross between the sun and snow, skimmed the surface of the water.

Pressing a hand to his mouth, Sicheng finally let out his sob, shutting his eyes tight and dropping his head against the porcelain rim.

_No_

He shook his head, _no_. Blood spilled onto his tongue as he bit hard on his cheek to keep from screaming.

But it makes sense _…_ something tired inside of him whispered. You knew _…_

Sicheng trembled, shaking his head at his voice.

The fatigue, the nausea, the mood swings, the damn _depression_ … The pain (the bliss) whenever he saw _him_ , everything added up to this _._ He shivered, about to refuse the idea. He didn’t want it.

He didn’t want to be in love.

“Sicheng?”

His hands instinctually sprung to flush away the flower petals. A moment later he snapped his eyes toward the door, guilt probably written on his face. Yuta stood at the doorway, brows together, half in confusion, half from the light. His face was swollen from sleep, and he had his hair pushed out of his face by a headband. In any other situation, he’d laugh but now his heart boomed inside his chest.

His friend stepped cautiously into the bathroom, eyeing the toilet then him with concern. “Did you puke?”

Sicheng saw two paths before him; the truth or the lie; along with everything they each implied. He felt the shame of telling Yuta the truth, and then disgust at himself for feeling that, but his throat tightened nonetheless.

At last he nodded. “Food poisoning,” he muttered lowly, too afraid his voice would crumble. Yuta made an quiet _oh_ noise and helped him up to feet. Sicheng forced himself to meet his eyes. Yuta watched him carefully. “Sorry for wake you.” He didn’t care if his stupid Korean didn’t make sense. He wanted to sob, too break down in his best friend’s arms and scream that he was dying, and it was all his own damn fault.

Instead he cracked a weak grin and whispered, “Go to bed, I’m ok.”

Yuta still looked unconvinced, glancing again to the toilet. “Do you want me to get you medicine? We can just wake up Taeyong and tell him why I need to go out-” Yet the mention of his name made Sicheng’s back tighten with pain. The sensation of petals sprung up in his throat once more.

“ _No_! No Taeyong, no no one!” Sicheng reached out and gripped Yuta’s arm.

“B-but you haven’t been looking so good lately…”

 “ _Please_ Yuta, I am _fine_. Just sick, but fine. Please don’t tell others,” he pleaded then pouted his lips the way he knew everyone was weak for.

He saw the internal struggle Yuta faced until at last he sighed. Sicheng’s throat dried but his hold on Yuta’s arm softened. He won this time.

“Fine, but we’re buying you medicine first thing tomorrow. We can’t have you sick for practice.” Sicheng faked his best grin. “Wash up, it’s like two in the morning. We have to get up in three hours.”

Nodding, Sicheng followed the orders while Yuta stood right outside, yawning into his hand and readjusting his headband. He kept peeking over to Sicheng when he thought he wasn’t looking. It didn’t matter.

Sicheng dreamt that night of bleeding daffodils.

//

Next morning, he met practice with nothing but mistakes, missing the beat or not staying on the same tempo as everyone else. Every movement he made almost caused a coughing fit, and then when he tried to hold back, his chest crackled in agony.

“ _Winwin_!” The instructor screamed over the music, making Taeil stumble and Youngho cringe. He rubbed his forehead, jaw clutched. “You’re not even trying…” He pinched his brow. “You do understand that we have a concert _next month_ , right?”

Sicheng gazed landed on his feet. The stares of everyone in the room were stones on his shoulders. He mumbled an apology.

He glanced up to see the man sigh. “Tell me why you look so bad? Have you been staying up late? Not sticking to your diet? Not practicing as long as you need to? Huh? Huh?! Answer me!”  The whole room fell still and silent expect for the muffled echo of the music.

“N-no sir, I just- I’m just-” 

“Damn, we don’t have time for this right now. Just get out.” Sicheng stared at him, sweat running down his face, cheeks burning as the others just gawked in surprise.

He didn’t hear that right, did he? Out the corner of his eyes, he saw Taeyong frown at their teacher.

“ _Out_!” Apparently he did. He heard someone let out a small gasp, maybe Donghyuck. The pressure built up behind his eyes as his teacher shoved a finger at the door. “Get back in here when you’re serious!”

Sicheng tried to swallow the ball in his throat, tried not to think about the threat of tears in his eyes as he bowed to the man. “I’m sorry,” he tried to say. The man just waved him off, walking off the opposite way, murmuring something about laziness.

“Wait…” He heard Yuta’s breathless voice echo above the music. “Winwin’s…” His words faded as Sicheng snapped his gaze at him, glare sharp as a knife.

Sicheng turned away, head down.

“Did I say stop? Get back to practice. _Now_!” Sicheng grabbed his bag of spare clothes and headed towards the door. From behind he could hear the screeching of sneakers against the wood floor. “Prime example of what _not_ to do, boys!” 

“Wait-” His fists tightened at his side as he ignored Taeyong’s concerned whisper.

He shoved past the doors and didn’t start crying until he made it back to the dorms.

Sicheng pushed his face into his pillow, smothering a sob into it. A part of him knew that he should tell someone.

In school they always said it was natural. It was human. It wasn’t common but it happened enough, and so people shouldn’t be afraid and tell someone. Adults have told Sicheng that since he was young enough to even understand what Hanahaki was.

A person might feel one-sided crushes, but Hanahaki only occured when one soul touched another and…nothing responded.

The surgery wasn’t so bad, the teachers insisted back then. You would feel better afterwards: no pain, no flowers, no feelings. It was better to have all of those things disappear rather than die. 

Sicheng rubbed the tears from his eyes and gazed the ceiling. His heart felt like a stone in the middle of his ribcage. He sniffled, closing his eyes and feeling his bottom lip quiver.

Sicheng saw eyes darker than a pitch sky, filled with glowing specks bright as stars. It sight was beautiful. Ethereal. _He_ really was like the night sky; never to be his alone but something forever there, always around for billions.

He was going to die. He was going to die. Dong Sicheng was going to die simply because something inside of him called out to Taeyong and he just didn’t respond. Bundles of flowers grew inside of him because of that.

_Knock knock_

Sicheng jumped at the sound. His head whipped around to see Jaehyun standing at the door looking a little awkward.

Right away he recalled his luck with Yuta last night and cursed this repetitive situation. Sicheng smeared away his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand. “Y-yes?” he tried to sound nonchalant about his friend walking on him crying.  

Jaehyun gave him a soft half smile. “Can I come in?”

He bit his tongue, restraining himself to say a bratty no. Instead he took a deep breath and nodded. Jaehyun walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. He stayed there for a moment in silence, his forefinger outlining the plaid pattern of his bedsheets.

At last he looked up to meet his stare. Jaehyun swallowed. “Don’t let what happened get to you, Sicheng.” Sicheng felt his tear fill up with tears again. Jaehyun would hate Sicheng for not telling him.

“Sicheng. Hey,” he reached over and pulled him in a hug.  “Once when I was a trainee, one of the teachers ripped me a new one so badly, I cried right there in front of everyone because he wouldn’t let me leave.” Sicheng quietly sobbed and buried his face deeper into his neck. Would Jaehyun tell him what to do if he knew?

His friend rubbed circles on his back to calm him down. “It happens sometimes but that doesn’t mean shit about your skills, ok? Everyone has bad days…” Sicheng nodded. Jaehyun’s warmth mixed with his own, and even though his body was laced with muscle, he felt soft.

“Taeyong’s worried about you.” Sicheng’s insides ached. His lungs ached. His heart begged for something he couldn’t give it. “Something’s…been going on, we can tell. We’re all worried, but whatever’s going on, Taeyong’s the leader and he feels responsible for everything that happens. He’ll listen… Anyone of us will listen,” Jaehyun said gently. 

Sicheng yanked himself away from his arms. “I just feel tired. Am I allowed to feel tired without everyone worrying over me like a stupid idiot?” he spat. “That happens enough don’t you think?”

The look of shock and hurt on his face stung Sicheng. A wave of nausea and guilt fell over him. Sicheng turned away from Jaehyun to cover his mouth with a pale hand. The coughing racked his body roughly enough to cause the bed to tremble.

He pulled back his hand slightly to see four tiny petals taunting him. Sicheng hastily crushed them in his palm. All the energy he had managed to gather that day disappeared from his body. He weakly turned back to Jaehyun. He kept his closed fist in his lap.

Jaehyun stared at him, both startled and worried. He imagined what the other boy saw: pitch circles around his eyes no matter how much he slept, a slowness to his movements, and maybe even the stems of daffodils crawling through his lips.

Now he really felt like a stupid idiot. He wanted to pluck the words from the air and shove them back into his throat.

“I’m sorry, Jaehyun,” he rasped. “I’m just…” He gasped slightly, trying not to break out crying again. “I’m so tired.” It was the truth.

Jaehyun swallowed, biting his lip. “Let’s get you to a doctor soon then. That cough sounds bad.” Jaehyun forced a smile on his face. “You’ll feel better after some rest. There’s always tomorrow.”

Maybe that was the biggest lie yet.

//

The weeks leading to the concert were emotionally exhausting.

After hours of painstaking dance practice with Johnny in the early mornings, Sicheng finally got caught up with the rest of the members.

Their teacher still gave him a glare when Sicheng messed up, but at least the scowling ceased.

It unnerved Sicheng. It was as if their instructor could see how Sicheng simply…stopped trying, stopped putting in 110% of his energy into dancing. For the first time in his entire life, dancing wasn’t enough.

Sicheng knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“But Taeyong’s one of the best dancers,” Johnny tried to argue with him during an extremely early morning practice- 4:30 AM. He still had a faint imprint of a pillow on his cheek.

Sicheng crossed his arms and feebly shrugged.

By standing outside the practice room like this, Sicheng was sure Taeyong could hear them. “I want to practice one on one. Please Johnny, you know I do better like that. I want you instead.” He could see Johnny’s internal struggle to fight him on that. It was true. Sicheng could master any dance perfectly, no matter how difficult, if he worked nonstop with someone for a few weeks.

“Please,” Sicheng looked at him with weepy eyes. Johnny immediately caved.

He sighed, pushing his bangs back, then told him to stay there. Johnny disappeared into the room and suddenly there the mutters of disbelief started up. Sicheng stared at the wall in front of him.

The petals were getting worse. The other day he almost passed out in the shower from the coughing fit. It was the first time that his hand come away with crimson tangled into the flower bits. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell anyone. A part of him hoped the feelings would stop and he would simply keep doing what he loved with the rest of the members in NCT.

With Taeyong.

The door opened. He came out with defeat hanging on his shoulders and stopped right in front of him. Sicheng could feel the weight of his dark eyes on him. He kept his own gaze at the ground.

“I won’t ask.”

He could hear the blood rush through his head.

“But… But I’m sorry if I did something. Please don’t take it out on yourself.”

Sicheng’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. He almost wished it stopped right then so he could live in the bliss of the feeling within that one idle second. In its place, he peered up at him through his fringe and wanted to cry.

Crying seemed the only thing he could do lately. Sicheng didn’t think it was possibly to sob as much as he’s done these past weeks. He didn’t look in the mirrors if he could help it. His eyes seemed permanently rimmed red. The fatigue and mood swings were getting worse too.

Taeyong had his hair pulled out of his face with a beanie, somehow still looking fashionable in jogger pants and a ratty tee. He stood right in front of him looking so lost, so beautiful that Sicheng could only stare. Taeyong was like the moon and stars: gentle, heavenly, and utterly unreachable.

He could remember a time when Taeyong needed to drag him out of bed for early practice. It’s hard now, he would say after sweat and some tears flowed, but it’s worth it. Taeyong always encouraged him. He always took care of Sicheng like a little brother… But only because the company demanded it of him. That was all he would ever be to him- an annoying novice.

Sicheng couldn’t find it in himself to blame him for it. How simple it would be to have a face to hate, to scream at, but Sicheng could never hate Taeyong. He loved him too much.

Sicheng almost crumbled there, the sweet bile of the flowers crawling at the back of this throat. He turned away and hurried into the room without a word. His soul messed up somehow. Fate or destiny fucked him over.

//

The concert didn’t start off horrible.

Like always, Johnny and Taeyong came out first, pumping up the crowd while everyone else got in place on the lifts.

Sicheng could do this a million times, and nothing could prepare him for the rush of screams and the one sudden cool blast of air when he came on stage. The roar of the fans woke him up from some deep sleep and he smiled a little. There was a pounding inside of his skull and a fury right below his tongue, but Sicheng couldn’t think of that.

For once he didn’t want to think about that.  

Everything went smoothly and everyone danced and sung even better than in all the practices. He dove into the music and let the countless hours of practice remind him what to do even if his mind was still tired. He forgot where he was for a moment, dancing with boys he’s known for two short years. He forgot his situation. Forgot he was dying.

Taeyong chose that instant to sing. Sicheng’s eyes fleeted to the large screen off to the side and saw his face take up the monitor. The girls in the crowd sobbed.

the fan’s screams were merciless inside of his head.

sicheng peered out to the screeching crowd and saw nothing.

everything was blanketed in darkness.

music dimmed to the same nothingness in his ears.

he stumbled into a void

he dissolved

shards of glass banged inside of his lungs, cutting him up from the inside

he covered his mouth with both hands, to catch the silk petals before they fell

(falling falling falling)

they didn’t stop overflowing from his mouth

black spots ripped at his eyesight, blinding and binding him completely

still he felt the hot, thick touch of something dripping from his mouth to his palms

Ah.

A pair of arms wrapped around his chest and dragged him off his feet. Sicheng blinked and noticed he had his hands fisted closed against his mouth. Looking back on the stage, there wasn’t a single flower dripping behind him.

Taeil quickly passed him to a stagehand and returned to the stage without a second glance. The man carried offstage him where the camera couldn’t see him.

The weight of the petals grew heavy in his hands. Sicheng released them and closed his eyes.

//

When he opened his eyes, he knew something was gone.

Sicheng lopped his head to the side, noting he laid in bed, sore and hurt.

It took him a second to figure out he was in a hospital room and another second to realize that a doctor spoke to a man in a suit by the foot of the bed. The man in the suit nodded seriously as the doctor pointed to something on a chart. His eye caught Sicheng’s stare and he froze for instant before a practiced smile came over his face.

The doctor turned to him, saying his name with the tenderness of a mother.

Sicheng’s lips parted but didn’t say anything. He touched his chest over the hospital gown and felt the thin mark of stitches.

In the background he heard the doctor gently tell him about the surgery. A company representative approved it as soon as he arrived at the hospital. Her voice buzzed slightly when she lightly scowled him for not getting help sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> i always wanted to write happy endings but i felt like this was good for me to try my hand at. the second chapter is almost done so it might be out by the end of this month....? idk dont trust me 
> 
> was there a particular part where you really felt emotional at :0? 
> 
> comments and kudos would be nice!


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